This story continues from the previous chapter posted here:
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=93707.0Enjoy!
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Tracy dropped by the flat on Saturday, just after lunch time. I was so nervous I’d eaten hardly anything all day, just managing a cup of tea and a slice of toast at breakfast, and nothing since then. Mixed with my nervousness was a tinge of excitement, too. Ever since Tracy had told me about the fight, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Memories of what had happened at the Millers’ house kept popping into my mind, and I was terrified that things might repeat themselves. At the same time, I knew that here was a chance to banish those memories forever. Never again, I reminded myself.
Tracy stood on the landing in jeans and sneakers, a heavy parka unzipped to reveal her bright red sweater. “Hiyas,” I greeted her. “Still cold outside?”
“Yeah, pretty chilly,” she replied. “You all set for this afternoon?”
I grinned at her with more confidence than I felt. “Yeah, sure.” I already had my exercise gear on – black bike shorts and a red g-string leotard to match Tracy's own outfit, as we’d agreed – underneath my baggy jeans and sweater.
Sharon was in the kitchen, and stuck her head around the doorway. “Hi, Trace.”
“Hullo Shaz!” called Tracy. “How're you feeling?”
“Loads better now,” replied Sharon. “Couple of weeks, and I'll be ready to get back on the mat.”
“Good for you, babes!”
I collected my bag, with a towel and a change of clothes, from my bedroom, and shrugged myself into my black leather jacket. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, let's hit the road. It shouldn't take us too long to get there, but you never know. See you later, Shaz.”
“Okay. Try not to get your arses kicked, all right?”
Tracy grinned. “Yeah, right. See you.” I echoed her goodbye, and we went downstairs to the car.
“Nervous?” asked Tracy as I climbed into the car beside her.
I nodded. “A bit, yeah.”
“Don't worry about it. It's only natural. Like I said to you on Thursday, this one will be different. I promise, okay?” She squeezed my arm.
“Yeah, I know.” I wriggled in the seat, arranging my jacket more comfortably around me. “So, any more news on who we're fighting?”
“Patricia told me they're two women named Angela and Jennifer. I've got their last names written down in my bag. They're friends with Claire Jackson, who was one of a pair that Sharon and I fought a while back. Claire's okay, and she vouched for these two, so there should be no trouble. Apparently, they've only fought each other and Claire, so they're not all that experienced. You should be able to handle either of them, with a bit of luck, and if you remember what I taught you.”
“I guess we'll find out,” I said with determination.
“The payment’s six hundred,” said Tracy as she pulled away from the traffic light at the end of the street. “We have to give Patricia a hundred for the booking, then we can split the rest.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Shaz and I got a thousand, the last time.” As soon as I said it, I realized I sounded greedy. “Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound like it did. It's still good money, but why the difference?”
“Outside London is always more, and the woman wanted her husband to watch the fight.”
“He did. He even filmed it.”
She glanced at me sharply. “What? You mean he filmed – “
“Yeah. He got it all on video. His bloody daughter was acting up for the camera. ‘Watch me do this to her, Dad!’ the bitch kept saying.” The anger came flooding back into me then.
“Christ,” breathed Tracy. She glanced across at me again, and must have noticed my hands, clenched into fists in my lap. “Still, don't forget that this is different, understand? You're angry about what happened to you and Shaz, but that was then. Don't let it get the better of you, today. The worst thing you can do in a fight...in a match...is to lose your temper.” She hadn’t forgotten how I’d freaked out at the Y on Thursday night. Nor had I.
“Yeah, I know.” I understood, but I knew I was going to have to watch myself. “Where are we going?”
“The address is in Chiswick. One of the women...Angela...it's her house.”
We skirted south of the city, avoiding some of the more horrendous traffic spots, took the A4 out to the west, and exited at Chiswick High Street. Tracy had written the directions down on a piece of paper, and with me navigating, we found the address with only one wrong turn. Parking the car a few doors down the street, we pulled our bags from the back seat. The house was a well-kept semi-detached structure in a quiet avenue a few hundred yards from the high street. We walked up a short path, past a neatly tended front garden, and Tracy rang the doorbell.
The woman who answered the door was several inches shorter than either of us, dressed in a grey track suit with a zip front, red hair twisted into a tight bun at the back of her head. I guessed her to be in her mid-thirties. She smiled pleasantly, though a little anxiously, at us. “Hi, I'm Angie,” she said.
Tracy introduced herself, then me, and we all shook hands on the doorstep. “Come in,” Angie said as she stepped back to let us into the house. “It's freezing out here.” We stepped into the hallway, and she added, “Let me take your coats for you.” She was clearly nervous and fussing to keep herself calm. She seemed really nice. So, I reminded myself, had Carol Miller.
Angie hung my jacket and Tracy's parka on a coat rack inside the door, and led us down the hallway, her bare feet padding softly on the hard wood floor. We went through a modern kitchen to an airy sunroom at the back of the house. Clearly a recent addition, the room stretched right across the back of the house, overlooking a back garden as well kept as the front. Floor-to-ceiling windows, hung with lace curtains, let in plenty of light. The furniture – several couches and armchairs – had been pushed back against the wall to make a large clear space in the middle of the room, where red canvas mats cushioned the floor.
Another woman sat on one of the couches, and stood up as we entered. “This is my friend Jenny,” said Angie. The other woman was dressed almost the same as Angie, but in navy blue, and her ash blonde hair was pulled up into a French braid. She was nearly the same height as Angie too, and seemed about the same age.
“I'm Donna,” I introduced myself this time, stretching out my hand to shake Jenny’s cordially. Her grip was firm and dry, and her smile seemed sincere. Again, I reminded myself, that didn’t mean anything.
“I'm Tracy.” Tracy shook hands with her too, and we stood looking around us.
“Sorry if things are a bit make-shift,” said Angie, sitting down on the near end of one of the couches. “This is the first time we've...done something like this, and we borrowed the mats from the school where we teach.”
I frowned at this, wondering if we’d run into two fanatically fit sports mistresses who could bench-press their own body weight and would toss us around the room like ping-pong balls. “What do you teach?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“I teach history,” replied Angie, “and Jenny teaches English and French. Both of us work at the local grammar school.”
Tracy put her bag down on the floor next to the door, and tested the mats with her foot. They gave under her weight. “These should be fine.”
“We've used them once, ourselves, a few weeks ago when we first wrestled each other,” said Jenny, taking her seat again. “They worked all right then.”
“So when did you two get into this?” Tracy asked.
“Well,” said Angie, looking at her friend, “I think it was that American TV special we saw a few months ago. We got talking about it, and thought it’d be fun to have a go…just for a laugh really.”
“It started one evening in the school gym, after work,” added Jenny. “We decided to see if we could do it, and we found it was fun, as well as good exercise.” She grinned sheepishly. “Then we told our friend Claire what we’d done, and she suggested we arrange this fight against you two.” She grinned a little sheepishly. “And here we are.”
“This is the first time you've fought anyone other than each other?” asked Tracy.
They both nodded. “We asked Claire if she wanted to get together with us, but she's been busy so we decided to book you for this afternoon, and not wait for Claire.”
“Well, then.” Tracy smiled at each of them in turn. I was relieved that they seemed less at ease than I was. “I understand you each want two separate matches, one of us against one of you, then the other against the other, is that right?”
“Claire told us that's the way it usually goes,” said Angie.
“That's right. Okay then, the first thing we ought to do is to have a look at each other, and see who wants to fight who.” She took a seat on the couch next to Angie and began to unlace her sneakers. I dropped my bag on the floor, sat down beside Jenny and began to do the same.
“Do you want somewhere to change?' asked Angie. “The bathroom's at the top of the stairs.”
“Oh, that's okay,” Tracy assured her. “We've got our gear on already. Mind you, we might want to use your bathroom for a shower afterwards, if you don't mind.”
“Oh, not at all, love,” she replied with a smile.
Tracy pulled her sweater off over her head and tucked it into her bag along with her sneakers, then wriggled out of her jeans. Her outfit was in direct contrast to mine – red bike shorts and a black leotard – so we were a pair of matched opposites as we finished undressing and sat together on the couch, facing the two women across the room.
“It's a lovely place you have here,” I said, trying to help Tracy alleviate the tension as the two women looked at us. I realised they were anxious about taking off their clothes in front of two strangers.
“Thanks,” said Angie with a smile. “My husband and I bought it a few years ago, and we've gradually been doing it up. This sunroom’s our latest project.”
“Where's your husband now?” Tracy asked.
“Oh, he's away for a couple of weeks,' she explained. “He works in the computer industry, and he's teaching some classes in Brussels.” She grinned sheepishly. “He doesn't know about this afternoon.:
“Mine thinks I'm helping you out with lesson plans for next term,” said Jenny with a laugh. The tension broken somewhat, she was the first to unzip the front of her top and shrug out of it, revealing a white sports bra emblazoned across the front with a logo I didn’t recognize. She pulled off her sweat-pants and stood up to lay them over the back of the couch behind her. In her sports bra and black tights, she was a lot bustier than Tracy or me, stocky but certainly not fat. With her lesser height, I guessed she weighed about the same as we did – Tracy and I had weighed ourselves at the Y on Thursday night and found we were within a couple of pounds of one another.
Angie was a little more slightly built, narrower in the waist but also with a generous chest and hips. I estimated that she was the lighter of the two by five pounds or so and, looking at the two of them together, probably a couple of years younger as well. She was dressed in black-and-green printed tights and a matching sports-bra – kind of a jungle pattern.
Tracy took charge again. “Any preferences on who goes up against who?” she asked. Our opponents looked at one another and shook their heads, so she continued, “Okay then, how about me against you, Jenny? Then Donna can fight Angie?”
They looked at one another again. “Okay,” agreed Angie. “Um...we're not too sure about rules. We made up our own when we fought each other, but I suppose you have your own rules.”
“Sort of,” replied Tracy, “but it's also up to you.” They looked uncertain, so she carried on. “The usual thing is, we fight until one of us pins the other for a ten count, or until somebody submits.” I listened with interest because, though I didn’t want to admit it in front of Angie and Jenny, I didn’t know much more than they did about how these things normally went. My one experience, I realized, was hardly typical.
“If you can't submit...maybe you've got your face pressed into your opponent's armpit or something...” we all grinned at that, “or in case somebody gets bloody-minded and just won’t quit…yeah, that can happen…your partner can submit on your behalf.”
“As for tactics, that's more a case of what you don't do. Hair pulling is ok, and so are slaps or even light punches, but not to the face. None of us wants to mess up our lovely complexions, do we? And no attacks below the waist. Crotches are off limits.”
“Oh, we've never actually hit each other,” said Jenny. “I suppose we could slap if we have to, but we've only ever wrestled...you know, holds and throws like they do on the telly.”
Tracy nodded. “Okay then, no slaps.” She grinned at me. “That's fine by us...avoids any bruises both ways. The rest of the rules are simple...no biting and no using your nails. The idea is to pin your opponent, not to hurt her. “ She smiled. “Right then...any questions?”
“How do we do the count when someone gets pinned?” asked Angie. “We usually just count out loud.”
“That'll work,” said Tracy, and added with a grin, “It's not like there’s a world championship riding on it. Maybe the two who aren't fighting can handle the count.” I got the feeling she was talking them through things to make them feel more at ease.
I looked around me. “There's a clock on the wall over there. It's got a second hand, so we could use that for a ten count.”
“Sounds all right to me,” Jenny voiced her agreement. “Shall we start?” She stood up and took her place near the center of the mat.
Tracy joined her, standing a few feet away. They faced each other without moving until Tracy reached out her arm, and the two locked hands in the old test of strength. They strained against one another for a few seconds. I could see that Jenny was strong, but I guessed that she lacked Tracy's experience. Tracy proved this a moment later when she dropped to one knee, pulling Jenny forward and tossing her over her hip to the mat.
To my surprise, Jenny held onto Tracy and used her own momentum to flip Tracy over her. Tracy landed with a solid thump on the mat, but the padded surface absorbed most of the impact, and she quickly rose to her knees. Jenny was quicker though. Stepping behind Tracy, she whipped her arm under Tracy's shoulder, pulling her to her feet and into a half-nelson.
Tracy managed to block Jenny's other arm and prevented her from completing a full nelson. She twisted her body in an attempt to break her opponent's grip, but Jenny clung on doggedly, her mouth set in determination as they wrestled around the mat.
Jenny pulled back on Tracy's shoulder, digging her hip into the small of Tracy's back to stretch her body painfully backwards and sideways. I noticed Tracy grit her teeth against the pain as she fought to pull herself forward, but the two were quite evenly matched and she couldn’t do anything more than her own against Jenny's stretch hold.
Tracy finally broke the hold by suddenly flinging herself backward onto Jenny. They both landed on their backs with Tracy on top. I heard the breath go out of Jenny's lungs with a rush as Tracy's weight landed on her. She involuntarily loosened her grip, and Tracy rolled away into a crouch and then rose to her feet. “Not bad,” she said with a grin as she backed away to let Jenny stand up.
Jenny grinned back at her. “Thanks,” she replied breathlessly, her chest heaving. She flicked her head and stroked a few strands of loose hair off her face. She and Tracy began to circle each other again, a few feet apart. Tracy made a couple of feints, darting in and slapping at Jenny’s hands, but neither of them really committed to an attack. They were just feeling each other out.
Tracy darted in again, but this time she kept going, slamming into Jenny chest to chest with a loud smack. She wrapped her arms around the shorter woman’s body above her waist, locking her hands together at the wrists behind Jenny’s back. Tracy groaned with the effort as she squeezed tight. Jenny groaned louder from the crushing pressure. I winced. I knew just how strong Tracy was.
Jenny retaliated with a bearhug of her own, throwing both arms around Tracy. The counterattack was less effective though, since Tracy’s arms were inside Jenny’s and she could use them to keep some of the pressure off her chest and back. Even so, she clenched her teeth as Jenny squeezed her tight. From the couch, I could the muscles in both their backs and shoulders flexing as they each struggled to overpower the other.
It was Tracy who broke the deadlock. Bending her knees, she squeezed Jenny even tighter and then, tensing her powerful legs, she heaved upwards, lifting her opponent up onto her toes. Jenny’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t have to react before Tracy heaved her up even higher, off the mat for a second, then tossed her backwards. Jenny went down on her back with a thump. Her body tensed from the jolting impact, and she lay there for a moment while Tracy stood over her, breathing hard.
The shorter woman rolled over and got to her knees, then her feet. She grinned at Tracy. “You’re not too bad yourself, love!” She made a face as she rubbed her back with one hand. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”
She suddenly threw herself forward, lunging at Tracy's legs to grab them and trip her up. Tracy leapt back, thwarting her attempt, then jumped forward and bent to wrap her arms around Jenny's waist, while Jenny was still bent low, trapping the other woman beneath her, doubled over. Jenny thrashed around but Tracy held on and with a heave, lifted her opponent off the ground, holding her by the waist, her head between Tracy's knees.
Beside me, Angie let out a gasp as she feared for her friend, and I realised Tracy had Jenny in position for one of those moves that you see on TV wrestling, where a fighter drops his or her opponent on their head, like driving a tent-peg into the ground. “Don't worry,” I said to her, “Tracy won't do anything too rough.” I knew professional wrestling matches on television are all carefully choreographed, and without an experienced opponent who knew what to do, someone could get badly hurt trying some of those techniques. I was certain Tracy wouldn’t be silly enough to try such a thing.
Sure enough, Tracy dropped sideways to the mat, tossing Jenny away from her so that she landed on her back, heavily enough to knock the wind of her again, but safely enough that she didn’t suffer any real harm.
I heard Angie suck her breath in sharply as Jenny rolled over onto her stomach, more slowly this time, and got her knees underneath her. “Come on, Jen!” she called out. “Get a move on! I want my turn!” She grinned at me, evidently enjoying herself.
In truth, I was enjoying the spectacle myself, as the two women grappled with one another for the next several minutes, neither one gaining any clear advantage. Tracy certainly had more experience, but Jenny equaled her in strength and was very fast. Overall, the two were well matched, and this fight could not have been more different than my earlier encounter with the Millers. These two women were obviously here to wrestle for enjoyment, and nothing more. My apprehension was quickly going away, and I found myself looking forward to my own turn on the mat, eager to test out the skills I’d learned. I glanced again at Angie and she returned the look, obviously thinking the same thing.
Tracy and Jenny faced off once again and locked arms, but this time it was Jenny who gained the advantage, twisting sideways to hook her arm between Tracy's legs. Bending her knees, she managed to heave Tracy off her feet and, as Jenny herself fell sideways, Tracy landed hard on her side. “Good one!” called Angie, clapping her hands together, and even I had to admit that, for a beginner, Jenny knew what she was doing. If her friend was as good as she was, I was going to have my work cut out for me.
Rolling over, breathing heavily to force air back into her lungs after her heavy fall, Tracy had no time to rise before Jenny was on her. Leaping onto Tracy's back, grabbing her chin with both hands, she pulled Tracy's head up and backward while pressing down with her rump on Tracy's back, arching her torso like a bow. “Submit!” Jenny ordered, as a drawn-out moan of distress escaped past Tracy's clenched teeth.
Tracy pounded the mat with one hand, and for a moment I thought she was going to tap out, but all the while she was frantically trying to reach behind her with the other. She stretched herself painfully to grab at Jenny's neck while the other woman repeatedly called on her to submit. “Not...” she grunted, interrupting her with an agonized gasp as she threw her arm even further back. I smiled as she hooked her hand around the back of Jenny's head and, taking the pressure off her own neck, twisted forward and sideways, “...so fast!”
Jenny catapulted forward, her head colliding with the mat. She rolled over, but Tracy threw herself forward too and regained her grip, catching Jenny in a reverse headlock. Jenny tried to pull her down, but Tracy leaned back, lifted Jenny's head off the floor and bent her chin back until Jenny had to stop struggling and simply use her arms to support herself.
Supporting Jenny with a hand under her arm, Tracy lifted her partway to her feet, got her leg under Jenny's body and then pulled her down across her knee, stretching Jenny's torso even further than Jenny had just stretched hers. “Two can play at that game,” she said as she bent forward, squeezing her chest against Jenny's own and pressing her arms downward, forcing Jenny's hips and head down, arching her back still further. “Now,
you submit.”
Jenny flailed her arms around for a short while before she realised it was useless, and gave a muffled, “Okay! Okay…I give up.”
Tracy immediately released her, and helped her to her feet. Jenny stretched, wincing as she rubbed her back. “Ow, that was a killer.”
“You did well!” Tracy congratulated her. “For somebody who's only fought a couple of times, you're pretty good.”
Jenny laughed. “You still beat me, though.”
“That's just experience,” said Tracy. A wisp of hair had escaped from the ponytail behind her head, and she pushed it off her face with the edge of her hand, tucking it behind her ear. “A few more fights, and you'll be a tough opponent.”
“Would you two like something to drink?” asked Angie as Tracy sat down on the couch next to Jenny.
“I'd love a cup of tea,” said Jenny.
“Yeah, that sounds lovely,: echoed Tracy.
Angie looked at me. “Just a glass of juice, if you've got any,” I asked.
“No worries, love. I'll just go and put the kettle on, and we'll have a cuppa before you and I have a go, shall we? “ She disappeared into the kitchen.
We made small talk over our drinks. It seemed that Jenny and Angie had come up with the idea of fighting each other, as they had said, while they were watching a television special from America after a rather wine-soaked dinner party one night at Jenny's house. Among the gargantuan men, the program had featured two women wrestling one another, and Angie had jokingly suggested to Jenny that she could give either of the two wrestlers a good kicking. When Jenny laughingly objected, the debate grew more serious.
“I said to her, ‘Think you can take me, do you?’” Angie grinned.
“And I said, ‘Any time!’”
Nothing came of the half-serious challenge that night but the following week, Angie had raised the subject at work, and they’d agreed to a match in the gym one night, when the school was deserted. “Neither of us was very good,” laughed Angie. “We spent most of the time flat on our backs laughing, but we enjoyed ourselves, and decided to keep doing it on a more regular basis.”
“We might even stage a wrestling match for Mike and Peter one night,” said Jenny, chuckling quietly. “They're our husbands,” she added to Tracy and me in explanation, and continued, “They'd probably get a real kick out of it.”
'Oh, I'm sure they would,' said Angie with another laugh. “My Mike would love to see me rolling around the floor in my tights.”
I noticed her finish her drink, so I said, “Shall we get started, then?”
Her eyes lit up. “Okay.” She placed her empty cup on the side table, and rose to her feet. In her boldly printed outfit, she looked very fit as she pulled her legs up behind her in turn to warm up. Butterflies started to flutter in my belly as I watched the way the muscles in her bare arms flexed when she stretched them behind her head to warm up. She was going to be tough to beat.
“Listen,” she said as we stepped onto the mat, “I know Jenny said we've never hit each other in any of our fights, but I'd like to try a few blows, maybe punches or even kicks...if that's okay with you.”
I felt the butterflies a bit more, but I shrugged. “Sounds all right to me,” I replied. Tracy had taught me some blocks in the gym on Thursday night, and this would give me an opportunity to practice. She was right here too, and she wouldn’t let anything get out of hand. “Like Tracy said though...only to the body. No hitting below the waist or above the neck.”
“Oh, definitely!” she agreed with an emphatic nod.
We began in much the same way as Tracy and Jenny had done, locking arms and pushing against one another. Angie broke the deadlock, pulling me forward and thrusting her knee upward into my belly. I ducked my head and sucked in my stomach, absorbing most of the impact, but she spun on her toes and threw her arm around my neck, trapping me in a headlock.
I struggled in her grip for a moment, but her arm tightened around my neck, and I realised I couldn’t defeat her just by strength. She was the one who’d suggested we use fists and feet, and had begun with her own knee to my belly, so I saw no harm in doing the same. I sank my elbow hard into her middle. I heard her grunt in pain, and her pressure on my neck slackened but she didn’t let go. I repeated the move, but still she maintained her hold. As I’d suspected, she was strong and could take punishment. Unless I could gain an advantage for myself, I was in trouble.
Changing tactics, I bent further, hooked one arm behind her back and the other behind her knee. Lifting her bodily off the ground and cradling her in my arms, for a moment I thought about dropping her across my knee, but I knew the damage that would do and I stopped myself. I wanted to beat her, not to put her in A&E. Instead, I dropped onto my knees, keeping them well out of Angie's way, and she landed on her back with a loud thud, the air rushing out of her.
This time she released her grip on my neck. I leapt on top of her, kneeling astride her belly while I grabbed her wrists and pinned them at each side of her head. She struggled but I held her tight, leaning my full weight on her to prevent her throwing me off. A thought occurred to me then, and I gathered my feet under me, on either side of Angie's waist and, keeping hold of her arms, threw my backside up in the air, coming back down hard on her belly. Her breath came out in a rush again, and after I repeated the move, she was gasping for air, bucking her hips in a desperate effort to dislodge me.
At last she managed to do so. I rolled away and gave her a chance to rise to her feet. Her face was red and she was panting as she struggled to regain her breath. We circled one another while I waited for her to make the next move, glad of a chance for some respite.
For the next few minutes, we feinted at one another, grappling a few times. Once Angie managed to toss me to the mat, but I was able to regain my feet before she could press home her attack. Likewise, I threw her heavily to her back on one occasion, but she rolled away and sprang nimbly up again. I was perspiring, but so was she. From the grin on her face, she was enjoying herself as much as I was.
Suddenly Angie rushed at me, lifting me off my feet and slamming me to the mat beneath her. Wrapping her legs around my waist from behind, she crossed her ankles in front of me and began to squeeze her thighs together. I cried out, pain shooting through my belly as she ground her knee into the pit of my stomach, falling onto her back and squeezing as hard as she could. A low growl came from her as she strained to clench her legs together, crushing me between them. Damn! For a beginner, this girl was fucking good.
Struggling to breathe against the pressure of her thighs, I tried without success to get my arm inside her leg and gain some leverage. Giving up on that idea, starting to panic, I knew I’d have to submit soon unless I could make her let go. I drew my arm up over my head, then brought it down hard behind me, into Angie's belly. We both grunted in pain, Angie from the impact of my elbow, and me from the added strain on my own tightly squeezed abs.
Angie's thighs slackened for a moment, but she didn’t let go her grip, and I repeated the elbow to her stomach, then gave her a third blow, ignoring the agony in my own belly as I twisted in her grip. It hurt, but to my own surprise, the pain spurred me on. I wanted it to stop but even more, I wanted to win, and the pain sent adrenalin coursing through me. After I drove my elbow into the pit of Angie's stomach for a fifth time, I felt her legs go slack, and managed to pull her feet away from my waist.
I rolled quickly to my knees, knowing I had to press my advantage while I could. Pain saps your strength and after suffering in the grip of Angie's legs, I knew I didn’t have much left. I had to finish her, and soon, while she was still lying on the mat, clutching her wounded belly. Holding onto her left ankle with one hand, I grabbed her left wrist with the other, locked my own feet around her other ankle and leaned back, stretching her legs wide while simultaneously pulling her body to the side, twisting her torso as I wrenched her legs apart. She screamed, and I grunted out loud with the exertion as I pulled even harder on her arm and leg.
I kept up the strain for what seemed like an eternity, Angie wriggling and crying out in pain and frustration as she fought unsuccessfully to break my hold. Just when I thought my own legs couldn’t take any more, she blurted out, “All right, I submit! Let me go!”
Gratefully, I let go of her wrist and ankle, and just lay there on the mat while my legs recovered, as did Angie, rubbing the strained muscles of her thighs and lower back, grimacing in discomfort. “I'll be feeling this for a week,” she complained as she finally rose to her feet and hobbled to the couch.
I remained sitting on the mat. “Sorry,' I said, meaning it. I’d gotten a little carried away by the adrenalin rush, and was actually quite surprised with myself, shocked and even a little disturbed that I’d gone so far. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“Oh, don't worry too much,” she replied with a rueful grin. “After all, that's what you're here for. Anyway, it was me that wanted to use fists and feet, so I can't complain.”
I thought she was being a good sport about the whole thing. If I’d just been almost torn in half, the way I’d done to her, I didn’t think I would so good about it. It worried me a bit that I’d been so focused on winning, and even enjoyed the feeling of domination that came from forcing Angie to give in. When she’d finally cried out her submission, I would have yelled out in triumph if I hadn’t been so exhausted.
“Fourteen minutes,” said Jenny from her seat on the other couch, beside Tracy. “I beat you by three minutes.”
I looked at her, then at Angie. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, we had a little bet,' answered Angie with a grin, still rubbing at her hip. “We knew neither of us was likely to win against you two, so whichever one of us took the longest time to lose, won the bet. Tracy beat Jenny in seventeen minutes, while you only took fourteen to beat me, so Jenny wins.”
“She owes me a slap-up meal at the Italian place in the High Street,” explained Jenny.
Tracy and I laughed together. “If you'd told me, I'd have stretched it out for longer, and you could have gotten Jenny to buy me dinner as well,” I said.
Angie grinned and stood up. “I fancy another cuppa,” she said. “Can I get one for you this time, Donna?”
“Yeah, that’d be lovely, thanks,” I replied, as I rose from the mat and took my seat on the couch again. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. My initial embarrassment at having gone all out like that, was beginning to ebb, and I felt good that I’d won. As I’d suspected, Angie had been a tough opponent, and it had been a close thing, but I’d come out on top and I felt quite proud of myself.
“So how did you two get involved in fighting?” asked Jenny. “I mean, it's an unusual sort of thing, isn't it? Angie and I thought we were quite weird until we mentioned it to our friend Claire, and she told us about the firm you work for.”
I hesitated, unsure of what to say. Tracy looked at me, and grinned slightly before replying. “Donna's quite new to the whole thing, but I've been doing it for a couple of years. It started when I was at school...I did some martial arts classes, and met some other girls who liked to get together and practice what we learned. It was better with just us girls...the guys tend to do a lot of posing and ponsing about. After a while, we started doing a bit of wrestling and free-style fighting, putting some judo and other stuff into it. All just for fun...working off steam, really.”
“So what about you, Donna? Same story?”
“Not really, I replied. “My sister is Tracy's regular partner, but she couldn't make it today, so I agreed to take her place.”
“Donna stands in for Sharon or me if we've got something else on, and can't make it to a job for some reason,” added Tracy.
“This is only my second fight,” I confessed.
Jenny smiled. “I'd never have guessed,” she said. “You're very good.”
“That's what I keep telling her,” Tracy remarked with a pointed glance at me. “Sharon…that’s her sister…and I have told her she should do more of it.”
“How long have you been doing it...you know, for money?”
Tracy thought for a moment. “I s'pose it's been about six months. We met a woman...she came to our group one time...and she suggested we hire ourselves out to fight other women who need opponents.”
Angie returned with four fresh cups of tea on a tray, along with some biscuits. I was thirsty after the fight, and downed half my cup in several quick gulps.
“Well, that was great fun!” said Angie with a sigh as she leaned back on the couch. “Oh, here's your money, by the way.” She picked up an envelope from the tea tray, and handed it to me.
I stood, went across the room and passed it to Tracy. “Here, you'd better hold onto this.”
Tracy took the envelope from me, quickly checked the contents, then tucked it into her bag. ”I've got you well-trained,” she laughed. “You handed that over, quick-smart.”
“Would you like to use the shower?” asked Angie. “I'll show you upstairs to the bathroom, if you like, and you can freshen up.”
I took a quick shower and changed out of my sweaty leotard into regular clothes. Then Tracy showered while I sat and chatted with Jenny and Angie for a while. When we finally left the house, I noticed with some surprise that we had been there over two hours, though we’d spent not much more than thirty minutes actually fighting.
“Well, that went off all right,” said Tracy as we climbed into the car. “How do you feel?”
I smiled at her. “Great. That was really good fun.”
“Yeah, you did pretty well. Mind you, it isn't always that easy. Some of the customers get a bit ticked off when they lose. Those two were a couple of angels.” She grinned. “Where on earth did you come up with that stretch hold at the end?”
I shrugged. “I just made it up, really. I saw something like that on telly once, and I thought if they could learn to wrestle from watching TV, so could I. Mind you, I think I need to work on my legs a bit. Another ten seconds and I don't think I could have held that hold.”
“Really though,” she said as she started the engine. “How do you feel about it? Bit different from the last time, yeah?”
My first thought was just to say “Too fucking right!” but I thought for a moment. “Yeah, it is. Right now, I feel like I could take on the world.” Then I thought a bit more and added, “Mind you, it was hard to hold back at the end. I was afraid I was going to hurt her with that stretch, but a part of me…well…didn’t care.”
Tracy nodded. “That’s the difficult thing. No good hurting her. That’s not what this kind of fighting is all about. Better to hold back a bit, even if it costs you the fight.”
“I know, and I wouldn’t have hurt her, but I wanted to win…so bad.”
Tracy grinned. “It's a nice feeling...winning. Remember though, you don't always win.”
“Yeah, but that's part of the fun of it. Right before I got up to fight Angie, I was really nervous. The butterflies were going crazy in my stomach when she suggested punches and kicks. After I started, though, it was just hard work, and I began to enjoy myself.”
Tracy smiled. “Would you do it again?”
“Oh yeah,” I replied without hesitation. “Like a bloody shot!” I meant it. I could still feel the adrenalin rushing through me during the fight. While I knew all along that there was no real danger in fighting Angie, it still felt good to put myself on the line, physically, and emerge victorious. The thrill of combat, I thought with a grin. Now I understood a bit more of why Tracy and Sharon spent so much time doing this. I’d tasted victory, and I wanted to taste it again.
TO BE CONTINUED…
